How pop culture’s anti-heroes are rewriting the script on scorned women

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

This is one of my favourite lines ever. I’ve always had a thing for female rage—as a genre, narrative, and a truly defiant mood. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a woman even the scales and reclaim her power. And watching her do it unapologetically? Icing on the cake. 

I recently binged Why Women Kill—a dark comedy about three different couples, set in different eras, all with the same problem: an unfaithful man. And watching it sparked every emotion imaginable. I was angry, amused, and even baffled at the things they did and expected to get away with—if they weren't busy trying to justify it. And I constantly found myself hissing at my screen, “Why doesn’t she just leave him?” every time one of the male characters did something stupid. But then what kind of justice would that be?

They say a woman gives her all to the man she loves, and more often than not, that “all” includes much of her dignity. So when a woman scorned finally takes back what’s hers, it feels like poetic justice.

Now, revenge need not involve bloodshed. Sometimes, it comes dressed as a beautiful tribute, like Lily Allen’s new album West End Girl—a 14-track project explicitly inspired by her marriage to actor David Harbour. It is a brutally honest, self-aware reflection on heartbreak, betrayal, and the messy aftermath of love, and is the artist’s first full-length release in seven years! 

Coming to why we love it—West End Girl is classic Lily Allen: sharp, self-aware, and just the right amount of savage. Her lyrics dive into betrayal, distance, and the exhausting act of keeping it together as the “modern wife.” On the title track, she sings about moving back to London and sensing the cracks forming, while ‘Pussy Palace’ lays it all bare with cheeky, painful honesty. It’s raw, witty, and real, and critics are calling it her best work yet—a break-up album for the woman who’s done suffering in silence. Now isn't that beautiful revenge? 

The evolution of the ‘woman scorned’ trope

The woman scorned is not a new trope—we’ve seen her on screen about a hundred times. Unfortunately, pop culture had her packaged under a different name: the crazy woman. She was the ex-girlfriend who couldn’t move on, the ex-wife who “took things too far,” the jealous friend who wanted to be seen and appreciated. From Glenn Close boiling bunnies in Fatal Attraction to Rosamund Pike manipulating the media in Gone Girl, women were often painted as unhinged. Their fatal flaw was their admiration, which went from pure passion to red-hot rage. What began as devotion or heartbreak was written off as hysteria.

Sadly, instead of understanding her POV and condemning the man who did her wrong, we were more than willing to vilify her reaction. Because society loves a graceful exit and believes a woman should leave in silence with her dignity intact. But if that dignity has already been stripped away, then sweet revenge seems like the only perfect ending. 

Thankfully, the “crazy woman” trope has finally received the rewrite it deserved. The modern woman scorned is now the anti-heroine: flawed, complex, and completely self-aware, and she's finally understood. Characters like Shiv Roy in Succession embody this perfectly—cold, calculating, and emotionally layered. Amy Dunne in Gone Girl might have been written as the ultimate manipulator, and it took a while, but the audience finally saw her as she was meant to be seen: a woman who was hurt and angry. Her character revealed the hypocrisy of a society that expects women to be picture-perfect women in love, kind, soft, and peacemakers. A complete façade of emotion, if you will. These women are complicated, yes. But they are also a reflection of control, survival, and the quiet satisfaction of no longer needing to be likeable. Fleabag’s chaos and Maddy Perez’s messy but unapologetic confidence in Euphoria are examples of the women who refuse to go quietly. They aren’t the villain of the story—they are the story. 

From revenge to reclamation

Closer home, we’ve seen this shift with films like 7 Khoon Maaf, which is one of the first few Bollywood narratives to justify a woman’s angered reaction to a man’s discretion. Susanna’s (Priyanka Chopra Jonas) vengeance wasn’t born out of hysteria but from betrayal and exhaustion of constantly ending up with a problematic man.

Then came Bulbbul, a hauntingly beautiful gem that reimagined the scorned woman as both the victim and vigilante. Attuned to the backdrop of patriarchy and superstition, the film uses folklore and fantasy to depict how a woman’s pain and silence can evolve into power. What begins as her suffering transforms into control, turning trauma into a chilling but satisfying kind of justice.

And we can’t not talk about Darlings. The film took on domestic abuse with dark humour and heart, portraying Alia Bhatt’s character as the doting wife stuck in a toxic cycle, until she decides to take back control with wit and power. Even Kahaani flipped the script, turning Vidya Balan’s character from a grieving wife into the master of her own revenge. These women aren’t symbols of madness or morality, just a reflection of what happens when the scorned woman finally breaks her silence.

And that’s just films. Music, too, has seen its own reckoning. Taylor Swift turned heartbreak into art—meticulously documenting betrayal and public scrutiny through her albums like Red and Reputation. Miley Cyrus’s Flowers became a self-love anthem for anyone who’s ever had to rebuild their life from the ashes of a bad relationship. And before them, there was Britney Spears’ Piece of Me, an act of defiance long before social media outrage was a thing, and Beyoncé’s Lemonade, which remains the gold standard for transforming rage, grief, and forgiveness into cultural power.

Now, newer voices like Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, and Lily Allen are pushing that honesty further by turning heartbreak into something sharper, louder, and infinitely more satisfying. The woman scorned isn’t spiralling anymore. She’s in control—and she’s the one telling her story.

Why female rage resonates now

As mentioned before, female rage and the scorned woman aren't new in films and music, but there has been a significant increase in the genre in the past decade. Even social media has seen a surge of women calling out mistreatment instead of quietly enduring it. After the #MeToo movement, issues like misogyny at work, emotional labour at home, and double standards in relationships—which were once whispered about—have found a loud and powerful voice, pointing at a collective exhaustion with being the “good girl.”

The reason? Audiences no longer relate to picture-perfect heroines who hold it together all the time, when their reality is filled with burnout and emotional fatigue. Instead, they connect with women who fall apart, get angry, and rebuild everything from scratch. It’s why shows like Fleabag or even The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel hit so hard—they show women who are flawed but free, messy but real.

The fine line between empowerment and exploitation

Now, we have to put this out there: not all rage is created equal, and not every portrayal of a scorned woman is automatically empowering. The visual of a woman screaming “fuck you” to her ex can be liberating—but when brands and media slap it on as “sad girl pop” aesthetic while ignoring the real roots of misogyny or emotional trauma, we’re skating into commodification. In other words, it's one thing to tell a story of a woman scorned; it’s another to hand-wave it as fashionable rebellion without acknowledging the pain and power behind it. 

And that’s why the transition feels so satisfying right now. Modern voices—whether on screen or in songs—aren’t just about falling apart; they’re about picking up the pieces and rewriting the narrative. Take Lily Allen’s new album, where heartbreak doesn’t lead to collapse but acts as a catalyst for something sharper and louder. So while the “woman scorned” may have started out as the punchline, she’s now the one writing the story—and deciding how it ends.

Lead image credit: IMDb, Netflix, Getty Images 
 

Also read: How women in horror are turning fragility into ferocity

Also read: Breaking down the messy politics of the ‘It-girl’ and what being one really means today